


Our Ladies of Perpetual Infatuation

by phonecallfromgod



Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: Complete Lack of Gaydar, Crushes, Multi, OCs who are technically canon characters, POV Outsider, Prom, Season 2, The power of friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 11:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16575404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phonecallfromgod/pseuds/phonecallfromgod
Summary: “I hate you guys so fucking much,” Tori says dropping into her spot at their lunch table.“Back at you bitch,” Riley says cheerfully around a mouthful of falafel hummus wrap. “Why, what’d we do?”“You made me notice Peter was hot,” Tori says dejectedly.The Girls of St. Bernie's have eyes thank you very much, and they've set them on one particular documentarian.





	Our Ladies of Perpetual Infatuation

**Author's Note:**

> While I obviously took a lot of artistic liberties in creating their characterization, the four main girls in this are all based on specific St Bernie's students from the talking head sections and have the names given to them by canon. For visual reference: http://phonecallfromgod.tumblr.com/post/179953148212/our-ladies-of-perpetual-infatuation

Everyone knows being on junior prom committee is kind of a joke. Especially since St. Bernie’s doesn’t even have a seperate junior and senior prom, which means that the senior prom committee gets final say on everything and the juniors basically just sit there. So it really shouldn’t be a big deal when Tori’s like five minutes late to the lunch meeting, but that doesn’t stop Ashleigh Kopec from giving Tori some serious stink eye when she slides into her spot beside Riley Grossinger. 

“As I was saying,” Ashleigh continues, “We’re just waiting to hear back from the Bellevue Club with a quote we can finalize ticket prices, and once that’s settled we can start doing lunch sales. Tell people to expect prices to have gone up slightly this year as we are offering more dinner options to fit dietary restrictions, but we’re doing our best to keep it under $100. Plus we’re going to offer a discount for couples who buy their tickets together.” 

Some senior girl Tori doesn’t know puts her hand up. “Do we know yet how many non-Bernie’s tickets will be available?” 

“Yeah, so last year we printed twenty five and that was lots, so we’ll probably do that again. Anyone else?” 

Tori sees Molly Hearst throw her hand into the hair, stretching like she’s actually trying to touch the ceiling. “I was wondering, I think it would be really nice if like, on behalf of the school as a thanks for all they’ve done, if we invited Sam and Peter as honoured guests. That way they can still come even if they’re not going with someone who goes here.” 

Ashleigh frowns a little, tapping a pencil on her lip. “I don’t know…” 

“I think it’s a good idea,” Riley says, “for what it’s worth. Like we have no idea if the Turd Burglar would have stopped if they hadn’t shown up, and just because they haven’t found him yet doesn’t mean they won’t.” 

“Yeah I agree,” Tori says, cause what the hell. Sam and Peter are chill and if anyone shouldn’t have to pay almost $100 to go to prom it should be them. 

Ashleigh purses her lips. “Alright fine. I’ll talk to Ms. McGovern about it. Everyone dismissed.” 

 

“Is it just me or is Peter Maldonado kind of hot?” Molly says abruptly like two days later when she’s standing in the cafeteria line with Tori. 

“Um, it’s just you,” Tori says, tucking her hair behind her ear and debating between macaroni and potato salad. 

“I dunno,” Molly says, leaning past Tori to grab a strawberry milk out of the fridge, “I think he sorta is. In a soft-serious kind of way.” 

Tori snorts; this isn’t her first rodeo with Molly having a crush on some weirdo. This was the same girl who’d admitted to her once that she could theoretically be into Kevin McClain. Which. Gross. 

(“He looks like the hot gay guy from High School Musical!” 

“How is that a selling point?”) 

“I mean you do you,” Tori says, finally settling on the macaroni. 

And she thinks that’s the last of it until immediately after they sit down at their usual table, Molly turns to Riley and goes, “Do you think Peter Maldonado is kind of cute?” 

“No,” Tori deadpans, unwrapping her sustainable recycled plastic cutlery. 

Riley though just clicks her tongue and tilts her head for a long second before nodding and saying, “Yeah, actually, I can see it.” 

“What are we talking about?” Suzanne asks, pulling out a chair and sitting in the empty spot beside Molly. Suzanne sitting at their table is a pretty new development, she used to always sit with Chloe Lyman and Emily Smythe-Xavier and Claire Toscaro and that whole group. One of the weird side effects of the Brownout was how much it had shaken up the social groups of their entire year. It’s not like Kevin was exactly popular, but taking him out of the equation seems to have shifted everything just slightly, like a block pulled out of the Jenga tower of established social order.

Not that Tori has a problem, Suzanne is totally chill, even if she does totally think things like prom committee are stupid. And hey, it’s not like she’s wrong. 

“Do you think Peter Maldonado is hot?” Riley says. “Me and Molly say he kinda is, and Tori says he’s not.” 

Suzanne frowns, thinking for a long second before shaking her head, “No, yeah, I don’t think he is.” 

“Thank you!” Tori says, and stabs her macaroni salad triumphantly. 

 

Betrayal comes swifter than she’d ever expected. After lunch she has biology and then philosophy, and she’s barely pulled her pencil case out of her bag when Suzanne makes a beeline for where she and Riley always sit in the front right-hand corner of the room. 

“Okay, so uh, I just did another interview with Peter and Sam...and I kind of think Molly and Riley might be right?” Suzanne says conspiratorially, voice pitched low.

“Yes, right!?” Riley says, pulling her long hair over her shoulder. “It’s like, kinda weird but once you notice it?” 

“His fucking _eyelashes_ ,” Suzanne says, dropping dramatically into a chair. “Like, fuck. Me.” 

“Oh my god, can you guys please chill,” Tori says, digging into her bag for her pencil case. “Long eyelashes does not a hot guy make.” 

“You just wait, Peter’s a sleeper hottie. He’ll get you eventually,” Riley says, walking her fingers up the side of Tori’s arm and poking her in the cheek, laughing. 

Tori rolls her eyes but she laughs along. As fucking if. 

 

Tori’s in the library a few days later, procrastinating on her project proposal for history, so she jumps at the chance to go do another interview segment when Sam ducks into the library, looking for volunteers on free period. 

“Nice Groutfit,” Tori says, following Sam towards the repurposed computer lab that St. Bernadine’s is letting them use to shoot the documentary. 

“Ha, thanks,” Sam says, looking down at his oversized grey hoodie and grey skinny jeans. “The sweater’s actually Peter’s, I’m just borrowing it. You’d think at this point in filming I’d be more aware of the fact that Washington has like, an actual winter, and yet.” 

“I mean, define actual,” Tori says. “I think it’s snowed like once.” 

“Fair,” Sam says, pulling the door open for her. Tori’s not sure if she thinks Sam is hot exactly, but she definitely thinks he’s cute with his over-gelled hair and collection of weird hats. Though Tori’s like 99% sure that Sam is gay given the fact that his display name on twitter is ‘Be Gay, Solve Crime.’ But probable gayness aside, Tori knows which of the two documentarians she’d given her hotness vote, objectively speaking. 

“If you could just wait one second while we re-adjust the lights,” Sam says, going over to help their pregnant camera woman adjusting the box lights. The whole set-up always reminds Tori of school picture day, and honestly, they might even be using the same backdrop. 

“Hey Tori,” Peter calls, giving her a little wave from behind the camera, and it’s super weird seeing him out of a bulky hoodie or a fleece zip-up or even just a long-sleeved shirt. But since he’d surrendered his hoodie to Sam he’s chilling behind the stationary camera in just a dusty blue t-shirt and it’s weird to acknowledge he actually has like. Arms. 

The sound tech guy, a blond bearded dude, comes over and helps her with the mic pack. He’s got that perfect air of professional bored detachment that helps ease the fact that she literally has to unbutton her whole cardigan so he can get the mic pack in place, and he throws a thumbs-up at Peter while Tori buttons her cardigan back up. 

“We good?” Sam says, throwing a thumbs-up at Peter who returns it. “Alright Tori, you’re in the hot seat.” He pats the stool twice and Tori gives her hair one last smoothing while Sam goes back around the camera, putting a thick pair of headphones over his ears. 

“Alright, can we mic test?” Peter says. “Tori, can you say something please. How’s your day going?” 

“Ehh, it’s okay,” Tori says. “Had a bio test earlier.” 

Sam frowns, tapping Peter on the arm, and pointing to something on the laptop screen. 

“Hold on one second,” Peter says. “We’re getting some distortion on the mic, no it’s cool Michael I got it,” he says, waving off the tech guy and climbing around his equipment. 

“Sorry, can you uh…” he trails off with a waved hand, but Tori can take the hint. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” She says quickly, unbuttoning her cardigan again. 

“I think it was just brushing against your sweater a bit,” Peter says, by way of totally needless explanation, but it causes Tori to look up at him, hovering over her, and really _look_ at him. The way his long dark eyelashes are fanned over his cheeks, the way he bites his lip softly in concentration, brow furrowing just slightly, the strong line of his jaw, even the soft muscles in his arms flexing as he ever so gently reaches over and unclips, and then reclips her mic in a slightly different spot on her blouse. 

“Alright that should be good, lets try that again,” Peter says, pulling away, and Tori tries to nod but she’s mostly consumed with a half-formed metaphor about fine Parisian chocolates and the colour of Peter’s eyes.

Oh god. Peter _is_ hot. 

 

“I hate you guys so fucking much,” Tori says dropping into her spot at their lunch table. 

“Back at you bitch,” Riley says cheerfully around a mouthful of falafel hummus wrap. “Why, what’d we do?” 

“You made me notice Peter was hot,” Tori says dejectedly. 

“Right! Yes! _Thank you_ ,” Suzanne says. 

“Was it cause he wasn’t wearing a sweater?” Molly says, nudging her foot under the table. “Cause I saw him earlier and I thought he looked _so_ cute.” 

“I don’t know,” Tori says, leaning her head into her hands. “He was just _there_ and all _serious_ and _concentrating_ and his eyes are _so brown_.” 

“They sure are,” Suzanne says, patting her on the shoulder. 

“Yeah god,” Riley says. “He was asking me about DeMarcus yesterday and he was just looking at me like a scholarly jack russell terrier and I just wanted to, you know, take a bite out of him.” She punctuates this by ripping off part of the pita and popping it into her mouth. 

“He’s not even my type,” Tori says with a melodramatic sigh, and drops her head into the cradle of her arms. 

“Awww there, there,” Riley says, “I’m sure you’re not his type either.” 

 

Tori goes out of her way to not get interviewed for like a week, like she’s trying to cheat her own object permanence by not being around Peter. But it’s only moderately successful since it’s not like Molly or Riley or Suzanne are playing by the same rules and she basically gets a daily breakdown about what totally earnestly adorable thing he did last. 

Plus, St. Bernie’s is big but it isn’t _that_ big, it’s not like she can avoid him entirely — especially since the only two dudes not in uniform wandering around with a camera person and a sound guy aren’t exactly inconspicuous. 

“Oh my gooooddd,” Molly says half under her breath, elbowing Tori hard between the ribs as they wait outside of the classroom where prom committee is held.

“Ow,” Tori mutters. 

“Shhh, shush, here he comes,” Molly says voice lowered, and then at normal volume, “Hi Peter!” 

Peter looks up slightly startled from his phone, like a little rumpled baby owl eyes going wide. Tori bites the inside of her mouth to keep from making a truly embarrassing noise of affection. 

“Hey guys,” Peter says, “You haven’t uh— have you seen Sam?” 

“Oh no, not recently,” Molly says. 

“Maybe he ditched you,” Tori says as a total knee jerk and then immediately wants to dissolve onto the linoleum. 

“What?” Peter says, brow crinkling slightly, and Tori is saved by Sam appearing at the other end of the hall. 

“Hey! Pete!” Sam calls. “C’mon, Chloe’s waiting for us.” 

“Cool, great,” Peter says. “See you guys later.” 

Molly nods, smiling until Peter catches up with Sam who throws a familiar arm around Peter’s shoulders, steering him around the corner, whirling on her heel to smack Tori on the arm. 

“What was _that_!?” 

“I default to sarcasm when I’m uncomfortable! It’s a problem!” Tori says defensively, and she has a very expensive therapist who’s told her as much at least twelve times. 

“Only you could be _meaner_ to a guy after you realized he was hot,” Molly says, but she rubs Tori’s shoulder affectionately.

That doesn’t stop her from replaying it over and over again in her head and she can barely pay attention during prom committee. Which isn’t a big deal because all they’re talking about is colour palettes and whether or not they’re going to have a photobooth, which, snooze. 

Honestly though, she needs to chill about the Peter thing. Like sure, now that she’s noticed he’s actually alarmingly good-looking she can’t _stop_ noticing it and it’s making her act like a total moron. But there really is nothing to be so freaked out about because there’s no endgame here. Like, what, is she really going to stride up and ask out some dude who a) she doesn’t know, b) is only going to be in Bellevue so long as there’s a documentary to be made, and c) probably would say no anyways because it’s kind of messed up to date someone who is a participant in your documentary. 

Also at the very least she’s _fourth_ in line and she’s pretty sure Riley and Suzanne would kill her if she tried to make a move. Molly would probably just cry, which honestly is way worse. 

Either way there’s no real endgame to it. She tries to comfort herself with that fact. 

Which is probably why she’s not paying attention when Ashleigh asks for volunteers for Valentines Grams and Tori doesn’t put her hand up quickly enough and gets saddled with having to sell before school on Monday and Wednesday. Because getting up an hour early to sit in front of the cafeteria is her dream come true. 

Ugh.

 

The only good part about having to run candygram table on Monday morning at ass o’clock is that there’s no one around to see Tori eat like four of the stupid heart shaped chocolates on sticks, folding up the red foil evidence super super small and then shoving them into her bra until she can leave her post and find a trash can. The only people she’s seen so far have been some guys from the lacrosse team and a couple of randos. 

Tori’s debating if it’s worthwhile to bust out some homework or just straight-up try and nap until the first bus gets in when she hears Sam and Peter coming around the corner. Or more accurately, she hears Sam coming around the corner because he’s singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” loudly, the sound bouncing and echoing down the empty halls. 

“A little pitchy,” Peter says. 

“Oh fuck you,” Sam says, more affectionately than maliciously. 

“Hmmm, maybe later,” Peter jokes and then notices Tori sitting at the table, clearing his throat embarrassedly. 

“Morning,” Tori says, trying to be casual and pushing down lingering thoughts of how weird she’d been to Peter last time she saw him. “Do you guys wanna get candygrams? It supports prom committee.” 

“Oh hell yeah,” Sam says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out one of those duct tape wallets that you make at Summer Camp or Girl Scouts. “How much?” 

“Two dollars each or three for five,” Tori says, opening the black cash box as Sam hands her a ten. “Do you want just three or do you want six?” 

“What the hell, let’s do six. It’s the least we can do I guess now that we’re honoured guests for prom,” Sam says. 

Tori freezes. “You guys got invited to prom?” 

“Yeah, I guess the school wanted to start repaying its debt to us early,” Sam says. “So how does this work exactly?” He adds after a long moment and Tori realizes she’s just been _sitting_ there like an _idiot_. 

“Shit, right, yeah so you just,” She grabs a stack of candygram sheets from the little pile she has in front of her, little three-inch long strips of pink paper, “You write your ‘to’ and ‘from’ here and then just pop them in this box and they’ll be delivered on Valentine’s Day.” 

Sam hunches over the table, filling his slips in with vigour. 

“Do you want…?” Tori asks Peter, trailing off and rubbing at the back of her neck. 

“Oh,” Peter says. “Let me see if I have— ” he reaches into his back pocket and extracts a much nicer leather wallet, his initials embossed onto the front. He pulls out four one dollar bills and hands them over, Tori sliding him two slips over the table. 

She feels weird to be sitting, but it also feels weird to stand up at this point, both Sam and Peter bent over the table filling in their slips. And it’s not like she’s _trying_ to creep on Peter but he’s literally _right in front of her_ , his tongue just barely poking out between his teeth as he writes and she gets a little tingle right up the back of her neck. 

“Box?” Sam asks, waving his handful of completed slips at her and Tori jumps to her feet, sliding the locked wooden box towards him. 

“Is this the tip box?” Sam asks. 

“The what?” 

“The student government had a tip box…” Sam says vaguely, waving a hand. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not really important.” 

Peter puts his own slips in the box, and for a crazy half-second Tori hates herself for not taking the opportunity to look at his slips. It’s not like she thinks one of them will be addressed to her, but she can’t stop the desperate itch of curiosity that sparks in her over who exactly Peter is sending candygrams to. But fortunately her borderline creepy and definitely overstep-y impulse is ultimately thwarted by the fact that the box the slips go into is locked shut. 

And yeah, maybe theoretically she could try and get it at the right angle and shake them out, but that seems like really crossing a line. Not to mention incredibly unsubtle. 

“I really think that’s the tip box,” Sam says to Peter who points a warning finger at him. 

“God, do not start with that again. Catch you around Tori,” Peter says, giving Sam a playful shove in the direction they’d been walking.

“Yeah, you too,” she replies, and then immediately hates herself for it. But thankfully he’s at least around the corner before she melts into a puddle of self-loathing about it.

 

Tori’s off like a flash the moment Ashleigh shows up to collect all the candygrams stuff. She weaves her way through a crowd of slow-walking freshmen in the science hall, catching sight of Molly kneeling in front of her locker. 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Tori says, batting her gently on the shoulder, Molly waving her off impatiently as she shoves her colour-coordinated notebooks into her bag. 

“Oh my god, give me a second Tor, c’mon,” Molly says, heaving her satchel over her shoulder and checking her hair in the mirror she has hanging in her locker. “Do you like the headband? I’m not sure how I feel about it.” 

“Mol- _ly_ , I am trying to blow your mind here and you want to talk about headbands?” 

Molly starts to roll her eyes but Tori catches her by the wrists. “They invited Sam and Peter to prom.” 

Molly’s eyes go wide. “If you’re messing with me…” 

“No I swear, I just saw Sam and Peter this morning cause I was on candygrams and Sam was like ‘oh we better buy some to support prom since we’re honoured guests.’” 

“Oh shiiit!” Molly says, a little too loudly, earning her a disapproving stare from Mr. Fernandez walking by. 

“Look, I have to run,” Tori says, and she does because she hasn’t even stopped by her locker yet and she’s got about two minutes left before the warning bell, “but let’s figure out a plan at lunch.” 

The game is, as they say, a foot. 

 

“Okay, is it lowkey thirsty to ask Peter if he has a prom date already?” Riley says when she drops into her spot at their table. Tori doesn’t have morning classes with her or Suzanne but they’re both up-to-date on the whole prom situation so she figures Molly must have told them at some point in the last few hours. 

“Yes,” Suzanne says, dipping a baby carrot in ranch. “Also, doesn’t Molly kinda have first dibs?” 

“What are we, twelve?” Riley says. “You can’t have ‘dibs’ on someone. Besides, even if you could I’ve probably thought he was cute just as long as Molly has, maybe even longer. Maybe I actually have dibs.” 

Tori frowns, not exactly understanding the mental gymnastics on that, but Riley’s on debate team and if anyone can make something nonsensical kind of make sense, it’s her. 

Molly slides her tray onto the table. “Look, we all know I have first dibs. But I think we have to be really smart about this. I don’t wanna go to prom with some cute guy if it means alienating all my friends in the process.” 

Tori taps her foot on the floor. “Plus, if we all take turns asking him he might say yes to whoever asks first, whether or not that’s the person he’d want to go with first. And if we all ask at once he might say no just so he doesn’t have to like, actively pick one of us. I think we have to do it collaboratively.” 

Riley frowns. “So it’s a group project now?” 

“I mean, kinda?” Tori admits with a shrug. 

“No, I think Tori’s right,” Suzanne says. “Like we want to be able to put forward our best proposal as it were. We have no idea what kind of girls he’s into, so we could like, team up, do some research…” 

“Right, like agree upfront none of us will ask him until we know the best person to ask,” Tori says. 

“I don’t know,” Molly says. “It just seems kind of complicated.” 

“It’s already complicated though,” Tori says. “I just, I want this to be fun, I guess? And I thought maybe if it was like, all of us working together, then we could avoid it becoming all messy and bitter and weird.” 

Suzanne’s shoulders crunch up tightly together for a second while Molly and Riley seem to mull this over, Riley finally sighing melodramatically, “I guess our friendship is more important than some hot guy who doesn’t even go here.” 

“Yeah, I’m in too,” Molly says. “So what’s the plan? How are we going to figure out who should ask him?” 

“Oh fuck,” Tori says. “I have no idea.” 

 

Tori has skating after school on Friday so she doesn’t see the four dozen texts in her group chat with Riley, Suzanne, and Molly (dubbed The Gal-donados by Suzanne) until she’s climbing into the front seat of her step-mom’s luxury crossover. 

“Honey, can you please put the skate guards on? These seats are leather,” her step-mom Victoria says as Tori’s trying to scroll back through her messages to see what exactly is happening. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Tori says, digging into her duffel to grab a cloth so she can wipe her skates off before she slips the guards on, dropping her phone into the cup holder. 

Victoria makes a little approving sound, and Tori flicks back through her messages, eyes widening as she catches up on what she missed while she was at the rink. 

_Omg omg omg omg_ , she texts rapidly, heart kicking into the upbeat as she formulates a plan. 

Or, okay, maybe calling it a plan would be a bit of an overstatement. It’s more like a vague scheme. Okay, maybe three-quarters of a scheme, but it’s _something_ and something, in her opinion, is always better than nothing.

 

Suzanne picks her up around 10:00 pm, and even though Tori’s been dressed and sitting in the living room for a good twenty minutes, her step-mom insists on answering the door. She’s been on pretty thin ice since Skip Day got busted, and even though Tori hadn’t ended up getting an underage, Riley and Molly both had. So it had taken a decent amount of finagling to get first her step-mom and then her dad on board with letting her go to Emily Smythe-Xavier’s birthday party. 

She had to swear up and down that she wasn’t going to drink anything and she has to be back at 12:30 am, which is a full hour earlier than her normal curfew, but honestly she would have agreed to pretty much anything to get them to say yes. 

“Well hello, sweetheart!” Victoria croons from the entryway. “Tori your friend is here!” 

Tori manages to suppress an eye roll as she walks up and out of the sunken living room and around the corner to the entryway. 

“Your house is really gorgeous, Mrs. Carucci,” Suzanne says, and Tori gives her a small thumbs up from behind Victoria’s back. 

“You are too sweet, and please call me Victoria,” she says. “You girls have so much fun. But not _too_ much fun, right Tori?” 

“For sure,” Tori says. “See you later!” 

She ducks around Victoria and loops her arm through Suzanne’s — they’re on a time limit here. 

“Are you named after your mom?” Suzanne asks when they’re halfway down the driveway. 

“Victoria? No, she’s my step-mom,” Tori says. 

“Oh yikes, that’s way weirder then.” 

“Tell me about it,” Tori says, pulling the door to Riley’s car open and sliding all the way over so Suzanne can slide in after her. She’s wearing a really cute long-sleeved velvet-y top with light wash jeans and Tori can’t remember ever having seen her out of uniform before. She must have, at a party or something, but she can’t remember now. 

“Alright bitches,” Riley says from the driver’s seat. “Let's get this _bread_!” 

They have to park around the corner from Emily’s house because the driveway is already so crowded with cars. 

“So much for being fashionably late,” Molly says, rubbing at her bare arms as they make their way up Emily’s long driveway. 

Tori catches sight of Chloe Lyman’s car, which is a good sign for them, and Riley bumps against her arm excitedly when she sees it too. 

“Ahhh fuck, this is so exciting,” Riley says, linking their arms together.“I feel like Charlie’s Angels.” 

“Your mission should you choose to accept it,” Suzanne says, dropping her voice low. “Oh also,” she says, bringing her voice up to her normal pitch, “Since you weren’t, you know, technically invited I thought it might be wise to bring a peace offering, as it were.” 

She hands a little gift bag to Molly who peers into it. “Tequila?” 

“Em’s poison of choice,” Suzanne says. “I don’t get it either but it should make her pretty happy.”

Turns out they barely need it though, the party already in full enough swing that no one’s answering the door anymore and they’re able to slip in fairly undetected. Though Molly still keeps a handle on the tequila if the need arises. 

“Why don’t we split up?” Tori says over the music. Even by St. Bernadine’s standards the Smythe-Xavier’s are _loaded_ and the house is huge. “Text the group chat if you find anything.” 

“We should synchronize our watches!” Riley says gleefully, but Tori pretends not to hear her, letting herself get swept up in the crowd of people migrating out onto the back deck. 

It’s cold out and her breath puffs out in front of her as she scans the deck for Peter or Sam or even Chloe Lyman. She doesn’t see any of them but she ends up bumping into, quite literally, Trevor Gonzales. 

“Sorry Gonzo,” Tori says, and she can tell he’s pretty far gone already before he even opens his mouth, pulling her into a hug that mostly just involves him flopping into her. 

“Toooooriiiii,” Gonzo says. 

“You’re schwasted, oh my god,” Tori says, giving him a shove off of her which is only about half-playful. He flops back onto one of the deck chairs and Tori recognizes Matt Eberswalde and a few of the other guys from the basketball team sprawled over Emily’s tasteful deck furniture. As much as some of the bullshit with the student athletes really grates on her, she doesn’t have any beef with the players themselves. Mostly. 

Speaking of, DeMarcus and Lou are noticeably absent and Gonzo laughs when she asks about it, “Psshhh you think DeMarcus’ momager is gonna let him be out past his bedtime? As if.” 

Tori frowns, because what the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean? But her cell vibrates against her leg, and as soon as she sees the message preview from Molly she’s turning on her heel without so much as a goodbye to Gonzo and his basketball boys. 

 

It takes Tori a minute to find Molly once she’s in the basement, partially because it’s huge, and partially because the lights have been dimmed down to mood lighting and there’s a lot of people making out in darkened corners. 

She finally manages to find Molly in the big central entertainment room, tucked into the corner of the huge leather sectional. She’s talking to some guy Tori can’t see, his back to her while he talks a mile a minute to Molly who looks up at just the right time to give Tori a meaningful look, her eyes going wide and head tilting at the guy she’s talking to. And ho shit that sure is Peter. 

Tori slips onto the sectional beside Molly, gratefully accepting a swig from the flask Molly hands her, even though she’s not supposed to be drinking. Liquid courage and all that. 

“ —like it’s just so clearly some of his _best work_ ,” Peter says intensely, and his voice is just the slightest bit...off. Like someone trying to give a project presentation and working just a little bit too hard to make sure every word is clearly enunciated. 

“Totally,” Molly says nodding in agreement, and Peter seems to notice Tori is sitting there now. 

“Oh hi Tori, happy Friday,” Peter says, and his eyes are not quite focused and a little wild and oh shit he is _tanked_. 

“Hey Peter,” Tori says, ignoring Molly slapping at her thigh in realization as Riley emerges out of thin air and comes to sit on Peter’s other side. 

“What are we talking about?” Riley says, tossing her long hair over her shoulder and

wrapping a friendly yet flirtatious arm around Peter. 

“Ohhh,” Peter says blinking. God he’s so fucking cute. 

“Peter was just telling us about some of his thoughts on the 2010 Oscar season,” Molly says, nodding slightly when she catches Tori’s look of absolute bewilderment, because okay, seriously. 

“Fun!” Riley says just as Sam appears with Chloe Lyman in tow. 

“Oh hey guys,” Sam says, settling in beside Riley and handing an opened bottle of beer to Peter just as Suzanne appears, phone in hand, like she just got the text. 

“I didn’t realize you were coming to this,” Chloe says to Suzanne, crossing her arms over her chest. “Actually, can, I, uh, can we talk?” 

Suzanne gives a little side glance to their huddle on the couch, and then shrugs. “Yeah, sure, fine,” following Chloe off somewhere in the dim basement. 

“So, I thought it would be _so_ fun if we all went around and shared our actor crushes,” Riley says, like the flirty diabolical genius she is. “Peter, why don’t you go first?”

 

Tori has to step outside a while later because she cannot listen to another minute of Peter drunkenly-but-trying-hard-not-to-sound-drunkenly going on about Spotlight without wanting to tear her own hair out. 

Like he’s hot but he’s not that hot. A girl has limits. 

Tori ends up on some sort of side patio which opens into the yard and it takes her a second to identify the figure sitting on the steps and vaping like mad as Suzanne, who had never reappeared in the basement after she’d left to talk to Chloe. 

“Hey,” Tori says, wiping the step off before she sits. “What’s up?” 

“Oh hey,” Suzanne says, taking a long hit off her Juul and turning her head away to exhale. “You want some?” 

“Nah, my coach would fucking kill me,” Tori says. 

“Cool,” Suzanne says, and takes another long hit before tucking the Juul away. 

“What did Chloe want?” Tori asks hesitantly. 

Suzanne snorts, pulling the sleeves of her shirt over her hands. “Oh, what Chloe always wants.” 

“Well that was vague and bitter,” Tori says, and then after a long moment. “You don’t have to tell me if you want to.” 

Suzanne shakes her head. “God, no it’s just, it’s so fucking stupid. She’s all mad at me about Kevin.”

“McClain?” Tori says, “Why?” 

Suzanne rolls her eyes. “Cause _she_ feels bad about not inviting Kevin to stuff and now she’s looking for people to pin it on and I’m convenient because I was always the one who had to be like, hey maybe don’t invite Kevin to this house party. Like, I actually _like_ Kevin, but he gets so weird in certain situations and just makes everyone uncomfortable. But it’s like she agreed for _years_ but now she’s all pissy because she’s in _love_ with him or something and ugh. It’s just so stupid.” 

Suzanne pulls her Juul back out and takes a long few puffs, taking care to exhale away from Tori, which she appreciates. 

“Do you really think Chloe likes Kevin?” Tori says finally. 

“God, who fucking knows,” Suzanne says. “Sometimes I really think she does...and then I’m like, am I going crazy, it’s Kevin.” 

“You know Molly kinda thinks he’s cute,” Tori says, conspiratorial. “But don’t tell her I said that, she’ll kill me.” 

Suzanne laughs and then a long silence settles between them. But it’s nice and Tori realizes in it that she and Suzanne might actually kind of be proper friends now, and when Suzanne puts her head on her shoulder it’s not weird at all. It’s actually kind of nice. Tori’s not exactly the person people go to get comfort from, and she knows that lots of kids at St. Bernie’s think she’s kind of an ice princess, and not just because of the skating thing. 

“We should probably go back inside, it’s cold as tits,” Suzanne says finally, which honestly, feels just about right. 

 

They head back down to the basement but Peter and Riley and Molly are long gone. Though they do bump into Emily Smythe-Xavier who has thoroughly been enjoying the tequila by the looks of it, and she insists on taking half a dozen snaps before she releases them. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom and then we should probably try and head out soon,” Suzanne says. “You have curfew at 12:30 right?” 

“Ahh shit yeah,” Tori says, looking at her phone and realizing it’s already after midnight. “I’m gonna see if I can find Molly and Riley.” 

Fueled only by the knowledge that both of them tend to get a bit snacky when drunk, Tori sets out towards where she thinks the kitchen is. It’s more closed off from the rest of the house than Tori would have expected from how open-concept the rest of the house is, which is maybe why she doesn’t spot Peter at first, standing over by the fridge and gazing out of the back window. 

“Hey,” Tori says, Peter whirling around at the sound of her voice. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Peter says, and then shakes his head. “I was just thinking about….it’s my birthday. Today I mean. Like, now, cause it’s after midnight.” 

“Hey, happy birthday! How old?” Tori says, which, is that stupid? Does that sound so dumb to ask? Fuck. 

“Eighteen,” Peter says. “Which, I thought would be more exciting you know? I guess I can vote in the midterm elections but that’s like, ten months away.” 

“You can buy lottery tickets,” Tori says. “And you can be tried as an adult.” 

Peter seems to genuinely enjoy that, letting out a bemused snort, “True, true.” 

“Pete?” Sam’s voice calls from down the hall a split second before he emerges into the kitchen, “Hey, are you good to head? Did you drink that water?” 

“I’m not that drunk,” Peter says, almost on the verge of a sulk. 

“Uh huh, sure you’re not birthday boy,” Sam says, wrapping an arm around Peter’s back. 

“I’m not,” Peter protests, half pulling away. “Listen; The Following, Memento, Insomnia, The Prestige, Batman Begins— ” 

“ —Dude please stop telling me Christopher Nolan’s filmography in chronological order, it really does not prove your point as much as you think it does. Also, you mixed up The Prestige and Batman Begins, so you _schwasted_ son.” 

Tori snorts and Sam seems to suddenly realize she’s in the room. Which...not exactly flattering. 

“You guys okay to get home?” Tori asks.

“Yeah I’m on DD duty,” Sam says. “Because that’s the type of kind-hearted person I am. Now drink your goddamn water, Peter.” 

Peter gives Sam a little exasperated look but drinks his water dutifully anyways. 

“I should probably go find my people, but have a good night. Happy birthday again, Peter,” Tori says, giving them a last little wave, unable to quite shake the feeling she was somehow intruding on something. 

 

“Ohhh so he’s an Aquarius,” Riley says flopping down on top of the duvet of Tori’s bed. Tori had driven Molly and Suzanne home in Riley’s car since she’d ended up drinking a bit. Tori didn’t mind though, it had been a hot minute since Riley had slept over and it was the kind of cheesy middle school thing Tori actually found herself missing. 

“Oh my god, don’t start,” Tori says from her en suite bathroom, running her clarisonic over her face. 

“I mean, generally speaking Leos and Aquarians aren’t very compatible,” Riley continues, “but depending on his moon sign we could maybe make it work.” 

“I haaaaate you,” Tori says, wiping her face off with a towel. 

“Love you too,” Riley says, and then after a long pause, “he didn’t happen to say what _time_ he was born did he?” 

And honestly, Tori is completely justified in chucking a throw pillow at her head at that point. 

 

So it turns out none of them are especially zodiac compatible with Peter except for Suzanne, who, like Tori, doesn’t seem to put much stock into that kind of thing. 

But any of the possible fallout from that is pretty quickly eclipsed by Molly’s discovery on Monday that someone at St. Bernie’s had sent Peter five candygrams signed ‘your secret admirer,’ on top of the single one Sam had sent him. 

“They’re gonna have to get _way_ at the back of the line,” Molly says when she tells Tori before the morning bell on Wednesday day. 

“Did you see Peter send any to anyone?” Tori presses, but she mostly already knows the answer since Molly probably would have opened with that had he sent one to anyone surprising. 

“Just Sam and Chloe Lyman,” Molly says, “Which…” 

“Yeah, like of course he did, it’s his best friend and the girl whose house he’s staying in,” Tori says. “And you’re sure you didn’t get anything out of talking about celebrity crushes?” 

“Yeah, the whole thing just devolved into him talking about The Social Network a lot, which I guess maybe he thinks Whats-Her-Face or London Tipton is hot, but I don’t think so. He mostly talked about how he thought Andrew Garfield got snubbed. And then also he talked about that Prince of Persia movie for a while? It was cute though.” 

Tori hums thoughtfully, but she’s half-consumed with a nagging anxiety that there might be even more competition for Peter’s attention than originally thought. The thought of Molly or Riley or Suzanne getting to go to prom with Peter, while not exactly the end to this scenario that Tori would want, wouldn’t be the end of the world. Especially when she’s pretty sure all of them would be gracious enough to let her have one slow dance with Peter if she asked nicely. 

But the fact that there’s now someone else on the scene with enough investment to send Peter _five_ candygrams? 

They need to figure out who their ambassador is going to be, and soon, because if they wait much longer Tori thinks there might not even be any point in asking. 

 

On the morning of The Dump — not that Tori knows it’s the morning of The Dump, it’s just a Friday morning at the beginning of February then — Tori decides it’s time to stop playing games. The four of them haven’t really been able to come to any solid conclusions all week. 

They’d spent two days binge-watching the first season of American Vandal, hoping that 

maybe there would be some clues buried there. And while there had at first been a spark of hope when Sam had name-dropped some girl that Peter allegedly had a crush on, Ashley Hanson, that had turned into a bit of a dead end despite their extensive social media trawling. The only person who had come up even remotely connected to Oceanside and Hanover High had turned out to be some dude who now went to UCLA, so that was a bust. 

Still, it had been pretty fun, especially since Molly had never seen the show before and they all got to witness her increasing emotional involvement in the dicks. The look on her face when Christa had asked if anyone knew CPR was genuinely priceless. 

But watching it had reminded Tori that despite their best efforts, the four of them really weren’t budding investigative journalists, so maybe it was time to stop beating around the bush and actually face the problem head-on. 

She’s not entirely sure _what_ her plan is exactly, other than some sort of inquiry into what exactly Peter’s deal is vis-a-vis who he might be theoretically interested in going to prom with. But when she turns up to the modified computer-lab-turned-film-studio she is greeted not by Peter, or even Sam, but by the man, the myth, the legend himself. 

“Hey,” Ming Zhang says. “Can I help you?” 

“Hmmmm sorry actually, I don’t think you can,” Tori says, turning on her heel and taking it as a sign from a higher power that her attempt at direct confrontation just wasn’t meant to be. 

 

(She finds out later that Ming had come down from Vancouver, where his family had relocated from Toronto, to lend a hand since their camera woman had needed to start her maternity leave earlier than expected. And seriously, what a day to be helping out your friends with their documentary, when shit — not literally, thank god — hit the fan.) 

 

The Dump is weirdly awful in a way that’s hard to articulate. Her dad and Victoria refuse to let her go to school the following Monday, and she’s shuffled off to an emergency meeting with her therapist. Which seems a little superfluous to her, like, she’s not Drew or Jenna or DeMarcus or Kevin. She’s not even really close with any of them. So logically, this really shouldn’t be bugging her that much. 

But that doesn’t stop Tori from feeling a weird blend of paranoia and guilt. Especially since she’d defended Grayson getting expelled over the chlamydia tweets. Like sure she’d thought it was obnoxious, but she’d always considered Grayson to be pretty harmless. 

Or maybe she was right, like who’s to say that maybe Grayson wouldn’t have gone absolutely batshit crazy if he’d just gotten suspended or something. Or maybe he was just waiting for that push that would make him snap. There’s no way she or anyone can really know at this point, but the whole thing leaves such a bitter lingering taste in the back of her mouth. 

The worst fucking part is she can’t even just mindlessly browse through her social media feeds to get her mind off of it. 

Thank fucking god for Molly Hearst, who shows up on Tori’s doorstep at four in the afternoon in an almost comically fluffy pink sweater and drags her off to Whole Foods after a quick stop to pick up Riley and Suzanne. Molly has a vague plan involving pasta, which of course devolves into getting all the stuff to make garlic cheese bread and caesar salad and roasted brussel sprouts and chocolate cake. Plus, Riley gets like seventeen dollars’ worth of those gourmet cookies she’s obsessed with, and they end up back at Molly’s house for a semi ill-advised dinner party. 

And yeah sure, they kind of mess up on the timing of the brussel sprouts so they’re not done until almost half an hour after everything else, and the bread gets a little bit burnt, and Tori spills half a glass of red wine down her white shirt. But sometimes that’s just the price you pay for a few hours of bliss in the middle of a shitshow. 

They end up sprawled in Molly’s living room, the dream of chocolate cake having been abandoned after they way overestimated how much pasta they needed to make in the first place. Molly has her prom pinterest board pulled up on her tablet and is showing Riley some dress options while Tori puts Suzanne’s hair into a french twist. 

“You’re done,” Tori says, tapping Suzanne on the shoulder. “Go look.” 

“That was quick,” Suzanne says, climbing to her feet and going over to gaze at herself in the darkened reflection of the TV screen. “Oh that’s so pretty.” 

“I used to do my hair like that for skating competitions,” Tori says. “You get good at doing it quick.” 

Suzanne hums in vague agreement, still caught up in her reflection. 

“Tor, you be the tie breaker,” Molly says. “I think this dress is cute but Riley thinks it’s hideous.”

“Oh it’s _definitely_ hideous,” Riley says. 

“Shush! You’ve said your peace, I’m asking Tori” Molly says. 

“Yeah, no it’s hideous.” 

“Wait let me see, let me see,” Suzanne says, abandoning her reflection to come look, and overtop of Suzanne’s defense of the pastel monstrosity Tori realizes that she hasn’t thought about The Dump, or Grayson, or The Turd Burglar or American Vandal or even Peter Maldonado in easily two or three hours. 

It sounds cliche but Tori wishes she could just settle into this moment and stay here for the next few weeks, her friends close by and nothing of more pressing importance than whether hi-low dresses are cute or tacky. 

 

But of course Tuesday morning comes, and Wednesday and Thursday and Tori has to deal with the inevitable fallout of The Dump in the flesh. 

If The Brownout was pulling one block out of the Jenga tower, then The Dump is just like knocking the whole goddamn thing off the table and then lighting all the blocks on fire. Everyone’s on edge, and not just the people who got fucked with. Though DeMarcus is gone for a whole week and Tori’s lowkey pretty sure Drew Pankratz has dropped out of school... Jenna Hawthorne seems to be trying to take the whole thing on the chin as per usual, a firm look in her eyes as she eats lunch alone like _Say something to me I fucking dare you_. 

“I wish we could ask her to eat with us,” Molly says one day. “But we’re not really friends and I think she’d think we were like, you know, pitying her or whatever.” 

Tori nods, “Yeah I think she’s probably just tell us to go fuck ourselves.” 

Molly sighs. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

On top of the interpersonal drama they’re also not any closer to solving the mystery of Peter’s type, but that seems so painfully superfluous with everything else going on. Especially because Peter and Sam are right in the middle of the everything, and ‘everything’ in this case includes a literal police investigation. 

Tori doesn’t even see Peter or Sam until a few days before Valentines, when she bumps into Sam in the student parking lot struggling with what looks like maybe a tripod or the stand for a lamp. 

“Need a hand?” Tori asks. 

“Uhhhh...yeah actually,” Sam says, like conceding defeat. “It’s not even heavy it’s just, like, awkward.” 

Tori comes over around the other side of the silver Santa Fe and helps him heave the whole thing into the back, Sam pushing at it until it’s flush with the side of the car. 

“Are you guys packing up?” Tori asks, hoping Sam will say no, even though all the signs are painfully obvious. There’s been a lot of chatter around the school that with the Turd Burglar no longer at large there’s not going to be much more to document pretty soon, but somehow, despite knowing this logically, it feels impossible that St. Bernie’s could continue on without Sam and Peter. Something normal and comforting about their peripheral presence in their lives. 

But Sam nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, we’re wrapping up this week. I know Peter wants to come back to do some follow up in a few months, hopefully once we have some verdicts on the trial, but we’ll probably just do that when we’re here for prom.” 

Right. Prom. Shit. 

“Sam!” Their sound guy calls out one of the side exit doors to the building, “Peter needs you to give him a hand with something.” 

“Duty calls,” Sam says, adjusting his hat and giving her a jaunty little salute. 

Tori hesitates, a half second too long, but she still manages to call after him, “Hey! Sam, wait, you’ll be here for Valentines day right? For candygrams?” 

“Yeah, what is that like, Wednesday?” Sam says. “Probably. I think that’s actually our last day on campus.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” Tori says, and turns on her heel, already pulling out her phone to text Riley without offering Sam any sort of explanation. 

 

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Molly says, the hearts on the dumb Valentine’s antenna headband she’s wearing bobbing gently. 

“Oh my god no,” Riley says. “If you puke I’ll puke, I’m a sympathetic puker.” 

“No one is puking!” Tori says, “We have had enough bodily fluids spilled at this school for the rest of time.” 

She looks at the time on her phone, debating whether she needs to text Suzanne when she comes sliding into view around the corner. 

“Sorry, sorry, we got held at the end of class to get lectured about texting,” she says. “I feel like my bangs look stupid are they okay?” 

“Ehhh they’re a bit crooked, here,” Riley says, reaching over and combing her fingers through Suzanne’s blonde bangs until they lie straight across her forehead. 

“Well fuck, I guess we’re really doing this,” Suzanne says, the four of them clustered just outside of the makeshift studio door.

Molly elbows Tori in the side. “C’mon, it was your idea, you knock.” 

Tori pushes down the urge to point out that Molly was the one who pointed out that Peter was kinda hot in the first place, but she doubts that will go over well, and pausing any longer is just extending the agony. So she takes a deep breath and knocks very firmly twice. 

“It’s open!” Peter calls through the door, and there’s a long moment of hesitation before Tori realizes that they also must be expecting her to open the door too. Awesome. 

“Hey,” Tori calls, “It’s candygrams.” 

“Yeah come in, just gimme a sec.” 

Riley gives her a little shove through the doorway and then they’re all standing in the studio/computer lab like a little gaggle of baby chicks, clustered together for warmth. 

Peter’s crouched over as he packs something up, his long sleeve t-shirt rolled up to the elbows and riding up just enough that there’s a small tan sliver of skin peaking out from above his waist band. Tori hears Molly audibly gasp behind her. Which is, as the kids say, a huge mood. There’s a long, drawn-out moment of silence before Peter turns back to them, his bangs half valiantly holding their quaff, half flopping over into his eyes. 

Tori’s about 99% sure if everyone wasn’t standing behind her she’d have just fully fallen backwards and flattened into the floor like a cardboard cut-out. 

“Oh hey, gang’s all here,” Peter says grinning. 

“Haha yeah,” Riley says weakly, and there’s a long lingering pause until Molly seems to remember she’s the one who actually _has_ the candygrams, stepping out from around Tori.

“Here we have your…” Molly says. “Actually, should we leave Sam’s here with you? We have a couple for Sam and then…” She rummages in her basket for a long second. “All these are for you.” 

“Oh wow,” Peter says, accepting his little bouquet of red foil wrapped chocolates on sticks, pink tags attached to the sticks with gold ribbon. 

“Yeah you’re popular,” Molly says. “You have a secret admirer.” 

“Um, actually, you have a few,” Suzanne says, which they did NOT talk about in advance. But honestly. Good transition. 

“What Suzanne’s um, trying to say...” Riley says, and then she kind of freezes, laughing a few times awkwardly before Tori steps in and puts her out of her misery. 

“We know you’re coming to prom and stuff, and we just, well, wondered if you’d maybe want to go with one of us? We all think you’re like really cool and nice and good-looking and literally all four of us kind of wanted to ask but like, we weren’t totally sure how to do that in a way that was fair so we thought we’d just like. Put that decision in your court.” Tori says all in a blur, like air rushing from a punctured tire. 

Peter’s eyes get very wide behind his glasses and there’s an agonizing few seconds where he opens and closes his mouth a few times. Goldfish in a bowl. 

Then finally he says, “Wow, that’s really flattering.” 

Riley groans behind her, “Oh my god, _Peter_.” 

“Wait, wait, no, I didn’t. It’s not bad, like you’re all super great— ” 

“ —No yeah we get it. We’ve all been turned down before, we don’t have to do this whole thing where you tell us how great we are,” Suzanne says. “Really, it’s okay.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter says sheepishly. “I really do think you’re all great, I just….I already have a prom date actually, that’s the thing.” 

“ _Really_ ,” Tori says, slipping out without her really meaning to and Molly swats at her. 

Peter just gives a little half shrug, and looks down bashfully, and fuck if it isn’t cute as all hell. Not quite cute enough to entirely soothe the itch of rejection, but still very cute. 

“Well, we’ll just get out of your hair then,” Molly says. “Enjoy your chocolate.” 

And then they all get the hell out of there. Because much like sledding, with guys, when you gotta bail, you bail early. 

“Well, that wasn’t exactly what I expected,” Riley says after a few moments of silence. 

“I mean, could have been worse. At least we don’t all have to be like the runner up at a beauty pageant being fake happy for the one who got picked,” Suzanne adds.

“Yeaaaaaahhh,” Tori concedes. 

Molly shakes her head, little hearts bouncing happily. “Puh-lease you think we’d really let a guy come between us? And like he’s cute but he’s not _that_ cute.” 

“Yeah like, just because he’s a really sweet insightful nerd with eyelashes for days who looks at you like he’s seeing into your soul, who cares?” Riley adds. 

“Right like he’s cute, but really it’s not worth losing sleep over,” Suzanne says. 

There’s a long pause before Tori adds, “You’re still inviting him to pre-prom though, right?”

“Oh yeah, duh,” Molly says. “He’s just demoted he’s not cancelled.” 

 

Molly’s in the middle of curling Riley’s hair when the doorbell rings, her own hair done in a natural halo with a large crown of real flowers in shades of light pink to go with her deep magenta poofy cupcake of a dress, so Tori volunteers without being to told to go answer the door. There wasn’t really much you could do stylewise with a bob so she’d just thrown some sparkly silver clips into it and called it a day, which leaves her free to get the door. 

She’s expecting Suzanne, who still hasn’t arrived, so it’s a surprise when she opens the door to Sam and Peter spiffed up, a little completely involuntarily little squeal of surprise escaping her mouth as she reaches out to embrace both of them. 

“Oh my god hi!” Tori says mostly into the shoulder of Peter’s jacket, and holy fuck she might have forcibly talked herself out of the throes of her crush back in February, but he looks incredibly good in a slim fitting grey suit and she lets herself indulge a little. 

“Hey, sorry, I know we’re a little early,” Sam says, accepting her hug, and while Peter might subjectively be hotter to her, Sam looks incredibly stylish, having ditched a jacket in favour of just a white dress shirt with a bow tie and suspenders, light grey slacks and those black and white oxford spats. 

“Oh my gosh, no it’s fine, we’re just finishing getting ready, but I think everyone’s almost done,” Tori says. She doesn’t expect anyone who just got the open invitation to take photos in Molly’s sprawling and incredibly well-landscaped backyard to show up for half an hour or so, but they’re more or less ready now. 

“Molly’s house is _nice_ ,” Sam says, letting out a low appreciative whistle. “Like, even by Bellevue standards this is swanky.” 

“Yeah Molly’s got that sweet super old-school publishing money,” Tori says with a shrug. 

Peter frowns. “Wait is Molly....she’s not related to…?” 

“Yeah William Randolph Hearst is her like, I don’t know, Great-Great Uncle or something?” 

“Holy shit! Well that explains the literal grand staircase.” Sam says, and then lets out a little gasp, “Oh my god this is just like Newsies!” 

“Oh please, _please_ tell her you said that,” Tori says. “Actually hold on I’ll go tell Riley and Molly you’re here.” 

“Is Suzanne not coming? Aren’t you guys like Three Musketeers? And I say that meaning that of course we all know there was four of them,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, she’s doing some family stuff first but she’ll be here soon,” Tori says. “Gimme one sec, I’ll be right back.” She’s really glad she’d made the choice to leave her heels off for the time being so she can take the stairs pretty quickly as she heads back up to Molly’s room. 

“Where’s Suze?” Riley says, looking up from where she’s painting her nails when Tori reemerges. 

“No idea,” Tori says in a rush. “Because it wasn’t Suzanne, it was Sam and Peter.” 

Molly lets out a happy little gasp, Riley hissing as she pulls at her hair with the curling iron. “Ow, ow, Molly careful.” 

“Sorry!” Molly says. “Wait, did Peter have his date with him?” They’d speculated a few times about who they thought Peter would bring to prom. Their best guess for a while had been Chloe Lyman, but Tanner Bassett had promposed to her in May, so that had struck her out as a possibility. 

“Nope, just Sam and Peter,” Tori says, which, is a bit odd now that she thinks of it. She’d been convinced, Chloe out of the running, that he _must_ be bringing someone from back home. But it would be weird to have your prom date show up seperately to take photos at the house of someone they didn’t know. Unless the four of them had freaked Peter out so badly with their fourway promposal that he’d told his date not to come to Molly’s. 

Tori really hopes that’s not the case. 

“Can you please just entertain them for like, ten more minutes while I finish my hair, I don’t want them seeing it like this,” Riley says. 

“Seriously?” Tori says. 

“Don’t get all judgey! You’re dressed, you look amazing! I don’t wanna look like a melted wedding cake in front of a hot dude I liked and a fashionable gay guy!” Riley protests. 

“Alright, you’re valid,” Tori concedes. “I’ll go wow them with my conversational skills. But hurry.” 

Even though Tori is mostly okay playing host for a little while, she sends a quick text to Suzanne to see if she’s planning to show up soon, stopping on the middle landing because even in bare feet, texting and stairs are not a match made in heaven. She’s not totally sure what draws her attention over to where Peter is standing by an ornate gilded mirror, fiddling with a boutonniere on his lapel. 

“Dude, if you repin that one more time I am straight-up going to take it back,” Sam says. 

“It’s not lying properly,” Peter says, and Tori can hear the pout in his voice without having to see the look on his face. 

“Oh my god, please do not get all mopey about it, c’mere. C’mere I’ll help,” Sam says, voice dipping from mocking to sincere as he goes over to help Peter, the two of them curved together in profile. 

“There we go,” Sam says sweetly, letting go of the lapel of Peter’s jacket. “What’s your assessment, Doctor Maldonado?” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s better,” Peter says. “See, now we match.” He gestures towards Sam, and Tori notices for the first time that Sam is also wearing a boutonniere that matches Peter’s. Which. Huh. Is certainly a choice. 

It strikes Tori very suddenly that wearing matching attachable flowers to prom is the kind of thing that prom _dates_ do. And the suppressed ember of her crush on Peter flares ever so slightly as she realizes what has happened. Peter is going to prom with his openly gay best friend so Sam doesn’t feel weird and alone and left out. Like. St. Bernie’s is pretty chill as far as religious academic institutions go, but it’s still a _Catholic_ school. She’s heard the kinds of things people say about Jenna Hawthorne. And not just Paul Schnorenberg religious types, lots of people at their school are just one instagram misstep away from a homophobic comment or three. 

And while the newfound appreciation for the depths of what Peter is willing to do for his best friend is heart-eyes inducing, Tori’s not above admitting that it does soothe her wounded ego a bit to know that Peter had been too concerned with making prom a positive experience for Sam than his own possible romantic endeavors. 

Or at least, she thinks that for about five seconds before Peter reaches out, wraps his hand around the back of Sam’s neck, and kisses him on the mouth. Kisses him in that sort of halfway casual, halfway suggestive but not at all showy way that only couples who have been together a while can really pull off. 

It’s the kind of thing Tori would like to make a quick getaway from, just so she can process it, but she shoots herself in the foot by immediately dropping her phone in surprise, the hard rubber of the case _thwacking_ against every step before landing on the marble floor of the Hearst’s entryway. 

Peter and Sam look up at her, and then down at the phone and Tori immediately bursts into panicked giggles, unable to even process what an appropriate emotional reaction to this situation is. 

“Shit, did it crack?” Sam says as Tori takes the steps down to rescue her phone, crossing her fingers as she flips it over to find the whole thing completely intact. 

“We’re gucci,” Tori says, which is the kind of thing she makes fun of Riley for saying, but she’s suddenly _very_ nervous in front of Sam, the dude whose _boyfriend_ she asked to prom, like an _idiot_. 

Oh god. They were sharing clothes! They were openly sharing clothes and Tori did not put this together! 

...Does this mean she’s kind of homophobic? Is having a terrible gaydar homophobic? 

Tori really could not be more grateful when the doorbell rings, Suzanne arriving in a whirl of blue taffeta, timing impeccable as ever, and blessedly drawing all attention away from her and her heterosexual buffoonery. 

 

The next few hours are a stream of photos and limos and more photos and dinner and dancing, but in between all of this Tori manages to catch Riley, Molly, and Suzanne up about the whole situation she’d witnessed in the foyer. 

“I mean I guess that explains dude Ashley Hanson,” Suzanne points out, resting her chin in her hand. The actual dance part of prom is well underway and Tori’s taking a break to rehydrate and rest her feet. Four-inch wedges are cool for photos, but not so much for jumping around on the dance floor. Suzanne had come over to join her, the two of them still dishing about the apparent Peter and Sam situation, “Also, uh, _several_ comments Chloe made to me are really starting to make sense.” 

“Like what?” 

“Well I’m about ninety-nine percent sure she walked in on them having sex at _least_ once.” 

“Holy fuck,” Tori says, casting a glance over to where Peter and Sam are dancing with Chloe, Tanner, DeMarcus, and Jenna Hawthorne. 

“What are we talking about?” Riley says dropping into the chair beside Tori, her half-updo more of a quarter-updo at this point. 

“Just that we probably should have put together the Sam and Peter thing earlier,” Tori says with a shrug. 

“Honestly, I think it’s kinda great,” Riley says. “Like, it’s not that Peter even rejected any of us really, it’s just that we super weren’t his type. I’m counting that as a win.” 

Tori’s not sure she entirely agrees, but before she can make a counterpoint, the music shifts to a low song and there’s a groan from students as a mass exodus of people flood off the dancefloor. 

“Look! Look!” Suzanne says, tapping Tori on the forearm and pointing to where Molly is slow dancing with Peter Madsen. 

“Awww she got a Peter for prom after all,” Riley says, adjusting her strapless dress determinedly as she stands. “If you’ll excuse me I’m going to go try my luck with a guy or two.” 

“Well, I’m gonna go get more cake,” Tori says. “Because who needs emotional vulnerability when you can have...you know, cake.” 

There’s a sizable huddle at the dessert table thanks to the dancefloor slow song ditch, and Tori ends up right beside Jenna Hawthorne, who is methodically picking out the white chocolate covered strawberries from a platter. She’s wearing a deep maroon jumpsuit with a deep v-neck and a huge statement necklace that makes Tori’s neck hurt just to look at it. She debates for a second whether or not it will sound weird if she says something, hovering beside a platter of brownies. 

“I love your jumpsuit. You look really beautiful,” Tori says finally, before she can totally chicken out. 

Jenna looks at her, surprised. “Oh, uh, thanks Tori. I really like your shoes, I was noticing them earlier at pictures.” 

“Awww, yeah, thanks,” Tori says, looking down at her shoes, even though obviously she knows what they look like. Tall wedges in blue and green tones, a music box ballerina peeking out from the clear heel. “Hey, not to sound like, total yearbook cliche, but we should hang out more next year. If you want to, obviously you don’t have to. But you’re always welcome to eat at our table for lunch.” 

Jenna blinks. “Are you flirting with me?” 

Tori tilts her head. “I...what? Is that how lesbians flirt?” 

Jenna snorts. “I’m messing with you. You literally didn’t know Sam and Peter were dating, you’re obviously not gay.” 

Tori stares at Jenna. “Was that a test?” 

“Yeah, kinda. I just like to check and make sure people aren’t total lesbophobes before I give them my time,” She pats Tori once on the shoulder and pops a chocolate covered strawberry in her mouth before stalking off. 

“She’s so weird, right? But it kinda grows on you,” Sam says, suddenly beside Tori. 

“Yeah, kinda,” Tori says, uselessly holding a pair of tongs in her hand and realizing she’s not actually managed to pick up anything. The slow song that was playing ends, but merges perfectly into another. “Shouldn’t you be dancing with your documentarian?” 

“Ehhh,” Sam says. “We’re still trying to keep it lowkey. It’s still Catholic prom.” 

“Fuck that,” Tori says. “You saved the school from shit crimes, you’re allowed to be as gay as you want.” 

“That is very bold coming from someone who did not know Peter was my boyfriend until several hours ago.” 

“And look how well I’m taking it!” Tori says, clicking her tongs together. “Seriously, there were at least five of us dying to take Peter to prom, the least you can do is actually take advantage of it.” 

“Five?” Sam asks. 

“What?” 

“Who’s the fifth? You, Molly Hearst, Suzanne, Riley Grossinger.” 

“Oh, cause there was— Peter got candygrams from a Secret Admirer….who I am now realizing was probably you…” Tori says, and the urge to smack herself in the forehead is so strong she has to concentrate on resisting. “I’m like, not a stupid person I promise.” 

“People see what they want to see,” Sam says with a shrug. 

“Dude, seriously,” Tori says, finally deciding on some creme puffs and a cheesecake in a shot glass. “Go dance with your boyfriend. Live the dream.” 

Sam rolls his eyes, but when Tori gets back to her table she catches sight of him very gently easing Peter back onto the dancefloor, Peter slightly hesitant at first, but giving in quickly as Sam rests one hand on Peter’s shoulder blade and takes Peter’s hand with the other. The two of them swaying back and forth to what Tori is mostly sure is an Ed Sheeran song. 

Molly has magically reappeared from her duet of slow dances with Peter Madsen, her flower crown ever so slightly eschew as she drops into the spot between Suzanne and Tori. “God, they really are a sweet couple aren’t they?” 

“It’s like, I kinda wanna hate them in an envy way, but I just can’t,” Suzanne says. 

“Who’s a cute couple?” Riley asks, also rematerializing from the dance floor. 

“Oh you know, just Andrew Lundgarden’s hands and your butt,” Molly says, ducking when Riley smacks her with her little envelope clutch bag. 

“Ugh you are one to talk Miss Two-Dances-With-Peter-Madsen,” Riley retorts, “Someone has a _type_.” 

“Is a linguistic type even a thing though?” Suzanne asks. 

Tori thinks it’s probably not, but she doesn’t get a chance to get her two cents in because the music suddenly changes and there’s a wave of people rushing back onto the dancefloor, Suzanne pulling her by the hand into the swell, Molly and Riley at their heels. Dancing together in tangle of limbs and hair and fabric and youth, yelling lyrics to a song Tori doesn’t even remember consciously learning the words to. The four of them swirling together like planets who never needed a star to orbit around in the first place. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to youshallnotfinditso for the quick edit and sorry for making you laugh so much at the library. Huge love and kisses to evol_love for the edit and all your help and just for being you <3


End file.
